


Inked

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [96]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8737681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Hux has tattoos from before. Kylo is fascinated.





	

The first time Kylo sees them, Hux has kind of forgotten they’re there. Or - he’s been so worried about him knowing that his mind sort of blocked the whole incident and they had sex in dim lighting the first few times because he was ‘being considerate’ of Kylo’s bodily insecurity.

And now the lights are on, and Kylo’s kissing him all over, and the covers slide down as the kisses follow his ribs and the treasure-trail of hair. Hux’s hands comb through locks, pull at his neck, at his ears, and then Kylo doesn’t go down on him like he’s hoping for.

And he’s. He’s. _Staring._ And Hux tries to _cross his legs oh shit no now he’s going to laugh_. But Kylo’s hands prise his thighs back open, even as his dick is shrivelling into nothing, but the look on Kylo’s face is… 

“What do they mean?” he asks, fingers gracing sensitive skin.   


“They mean I was a drunken idiot who should have stayed in to study.”  


“It means you had a life, once,” Kylo reminds him, and follows swoop, swirl, script.   


Little mottos. Regimental lines. Long-dead injokes, where half those who laughed have died. Hux feels the prick of memory inside, nostalgia for something gone and lost. He’s almost certain anyone who knew him then who survived would never speak to him outside of command structures again.

“It’s stupid,” he says, and tries again to pull him away, to cover up.  


“I love them,” Kylo says, refusing the order and diving to lick and lap and nose and nudge. “They’re beautiful. And they’re your history.”  


“A stupid one,” Hux insists.  


“But a _real_ one. I want… I want to know the stories behind them,” he begs. “When you’re ready. I want to know… what they meant, when you got them.”  


Hux realises Kylo is earnest. He _does_ want to know. He really doesn’t mind, and Hux… wonders how Kylo’s youth was spent, suddenly. They’ve been politic enough not to discuss it, but he has his suspicions. He slowly relaxes, letting the warm fingers soothe at the knot of tension. “Alright.”

“Maybe I could get one,” Kylo suggests, his eyes averted. “Some day. Maybe you’d design one for me.”  


“I have the artistic abilities of a space slug, Kylo.”  


“Well… you tell the _artist_ , then, and they put something on me from you?”   


It’s an offer of something that Hux can’t quite pin down. An indelible memory, for good and for bad. He nods, and rubs at Kylo’s jaw. “We could get one together?” he suggests. “So it does mean something.”

Even if this doesn’t last, he wants to remember it. He wants to remember the weird sensations that spark across his skin, and the heaviness in his eyes and throat. Even if it turns to bad, he wants… to prove it happened. 

Kylo beams, and sucks hard over one ink-stained inner thigh. It sends the blood pooling back where it retreated from, and Hux wonders what he’ll ask the needle to say next. Whatever it is, it has to be worthy enough of this, of them, and he rolls his hips in open surrender.

Something… pretty, and deadly. Something life and death. Something furious and terrifying and beautiful and powerful and broken and brave and maddening. 

Something Kylo.


End file.
